Come on, Unca Dilly!
by MarcoLover16
Summary: Sequel to I see You. You should probably read that first. It's funny how one never thinks of a pen and paper as a weapon until put in a situation like this. With this pen, I have a chance of becoming the murderer of my own brother.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I hope you enjoy this. I'm not sure how long this will be. I try not to plan that in advance because then I always going longer or shorter, so we'll just say, here you go! Please review.

"'Gain, 'gain!" Paige's two-year-old daughter, Julia, squealed. She threw her arms around Marco's neck.

Marco laughed, holding onto her legs, letting the rest of her body swing forward for a moment just the way she liked it. He pulled her back up to rest securely against his chest.

"Okay, that's enough," he said.

"No," she wined, clearly unhappy. "I wanna do 'gain!"

"You know your mother doesn't like it, and besides, my arms are tired," Marco answered, ending her complaints. The child never argued with her favorite uncle.

Marco flopped down tiredly on the couch. Julia didn't understand why he could ever enjoy such a silly activity such as resting. She sighed, poking him impatiently in the chest. Marco groaned.

"Jule, mommy will be home any minute now," he said, pulling her onto the couch next to him. "How about we take a nap?" he suggested, desperate for a moment of peace. He knew it as too much of a request for such a hyper little girl.

"Nope," she answered immediately, proceeding to poke him. After a few minutes of suffering from the agonizing finger, Paige stepped into the room.

"Sleeping on the job?" she asked Marco, amused.

"I am not sleeping," he said defensively.

"Come on, Julia, let's give Uncle Marco a little break. I'm sure he needs to get back home," Paige suggested, scooping up her daughter.

"Oh, I wouldn't mind staying…purely to help out with Julia, of course."

Paige thought it over. She'd realized he offered to stay a lot. She understood why because since Mike had to work very often, she often felt lonely as well.

"No problem," she answered.

"Okay," Marco said, "I just have to go talk to Dylan, then I'll be back."

"Can I come?" Julia asked, excited.

"No," Paige told her firmly. "Honey, go wash your hands for dinner." Julia shrugged, not really seeing the point in washing her hands when they probably wouldn't be having dinner for a few more hours, but she was a smart enough girl to realize that her mother did not want her in the room, so she sped off to her bedroom, her strawberry blonde curls bouncing as she ran.

Paige tried to think of the best way to begin. "Marco, I want you to understand that talking to Dylan--"

"I know," he interrupted, "you don't think I should, but I'm not going to stop."

"Marco," she put her hand on his shoulder, "that's not what I was going to say…"

"I'm permitted to talk to my own damn fiancé if I do so please!" he slammed the door behind him.

Julia, obviously hearing the bang, emerged from her bedroom looking confused. "Is Uncle Marco mad?" she asked.

"No, sweetie," she comforted her child, leading her to the television, "he's not."

"Hello, again, Mr. Del Rossi, you know where to go," the red-haired woman at the front desk told him sadly. Marco would come almost every day. The woman, Marco had found out during previous visits that her name was Elizabeth, was very sympathetic toward his situation.

Marco walked the familiar path down the hallway to the same told musty hospital room. It didn't matter how many times he sat in the room and saw Dylan; it still broke his heart. He walked over to the wooden chair that was always put right by the bedside, and sat down. Marco hated to look at all the wires and needles that connected Dylan to the machines.

He was glad; however, that he was there alone. He loved Julia with all his heart, but having her sit with him and talk to Dylan was so hard because she never really spoke to him. She was only six months when the accident happened. She didn't remember ever hearing Dylan's voice.

So, there had been an accident, yes, which put Dylan in this state. Marco supposed one could call it an accident if he or she really wanted to, but Marco seriously doubted that when the player had smashed his hockey stick through the back of Dylan's head, that it had been my mistake. He was a player for some other team. It wasn't even during the game. Marco didn't care why it was done, who did it, or what happened to that man. He just wanted his baby to be okay.

However, since the accident, (if you will) the doctors had grown steadily surer that Dylan wasn't going to wake up. The most painful day for Marco was when the nurse in the other room with the most faith of all, just gave up as well. No one even cared anymore except, perhaps, Elizabeth who could do nothing for the situation. She just answered the phone calls and directed people where to go.

"Dylan," his voice broke as soon as the simple name left his lips. He knew that he cried almost every time he saw him, but he didn't understand why he kept promising himself that he wouldn't.

"Julia's grown so much. She always begs for stories about you," he paused. "Mike and Paige aren't sure what they're going to do because they want to make sure they're not going to get married just because of obligation. They love each other so much, though. Paige told me a few months ago that the only thing stopping them now is you…she always felt her whole family would be at her wedding. If my own love isn't enough for you to wake up…is guilt? You'll…let them down."

He looked away from Dylan for a moment, hating to see how weak he seemed. Dylan was the strongest man he had ever known. If he couldn't pull through, no one could. He took Dylan's hand in his before continuing.

"It's so hard when I see them kiss, Dylan. It's even harder when they talk about their possible marriage because I know, at one time, that was us…but now you can't…" he finally let his tears fall. "We didn't get the chance to do that, Dylan. I'm going to wait for you; don't worry. I'd never be with anyone else. I love you. I have to go see your sister now…and Julia. Bye, baby," he kissed his cold hand, exiting the room.

Marco didn't want to go see Paige just yet. However, sitting with Dylan any longer sounded a lot less appealing. He decided to just relax for a little while in the waiting room. He saw little children chasing each other in circles while their parents looked on apprehensively. He remembered when he sat with Julia in his lap while Paige looked that scared. Marco supposed the word 'hospital' automatically brought fear.

"Marco, honey?" said the receptionist, calling for him. He looked up, surprised to hear his name, and walked over to Elizabeth.

"Yes?" he asked.

She sighed, tapping her pen against the desk. She put her hand over his in a gesture of comfort. "I know that this must be really hard for you, but it's the right decision," she said, with a frown.

"What are you talking about?" he turned his head to the side, trying to figure out what 'decision' she was speaking of.

She started to look confused as well. "Well…the papers, dear. I just wanted to say I'm glad you're accepting this. I don't really approve of this artificial life they have him on," said Elizabeth.

"I—I--I really have no idea what you're talking about," Marco said, slightly scared.

She sighed again. "Honey, I thought you already knew. Paige is going to sign the papers to get Dylan off the machines."

………………………………………………………………………………….

"Oh, so you were going to tell me?!" Marco screamed, slamming a fork down at the table.

"Marco," she said, keeping her voice as calm as she possibly could with tears of anguish threatening to fall. "Later."

"Later?! Later? Paige, I am not giving you permission to fucking kill my boyfriend!"

Marco angrily slammed the cabinet door shut, not paying attention he dropped a glass.

Note: There are some things not to do when you're setting the table

Have an argument.

Tell your mother you are pregnant.

If one avoids doing said things, he or she probably will also avoid breaking things. Marco cleaned up the glass.

"Paige!"

She ignored him. "Paige!" he yelled again. He needed to have this conversation with her.

"Marco, don't you dare make me lose control and break down in front of my daughter!" she screamed back at him.

"She's in her bedroom," he lowered his voice to a whisper. "You can't do this to me, Paige. Dylan and I are not yet married. I have no rights in what you say on that paper. Please…"

Paige sat down, and put her head in her hands. "You keep saying, 'not yet', but you two will NEVER be because he will NEVER wake up. You need to realize that, Marco!" she said, finally crying.

The two sat there at the table, avoiding each other's eyes for a moment. Paige dried her tears, and went to fetch her daughter for dinner. Marco picked up his stuff, deciding he'd rather be in an empty apartment than with the girl who, at that moment, he hated more than anything. He just had to say goodbye to Julia first.

"Hey, sweetie, I'm going home."

"Why?" Julia asked, confused. "I thought…"

"Yes, well, I have some things to get done and…" he figured he should be slightly honest with the girl who meant more than anything to him. What could it hurt? "Your mommy doesn't think Dylan's going to wake up. I can't be around a pessimist right now."

"Stop," Paige said shortly.

Julia hugged Marco goodbye. She whispered sweetly in his ear, "He's gonna wake up, Unca Marco."

A/N: Okay…were you expecting it? Please review!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I really wish I knew how to put words in italics on this site, but since I don't…I'm very sad :( (See the sad face? Lol) Anyhow, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Please review. Oh, and does anyone know how I can let anonymous reviewers…review?

"I think we're freaking out some men in here, Marco," said Dylan, holding Marco's hand tightly.

Marco, considering it was three thirty a.m., was quite tired, and he just mumbled some incoherent response, moving in closer to his boyfriend.

Dylan laughed heartily, kissing the top of his head softly. "Tired?" he asked, not really needing the answer.

Marco nodded into his chest. "I'm awake," he said as an afterthought. He picked up his head and saw, to his amusement, exactly what Dylan had been talking about. He laughed. "They're staring."

"I know," said Dylan. "Look at me." Marco did so. "Now," Dylan turned to all the uncomfortable, probably homophobes, and mothers trying to hide their children from the awful sight they might have to see, in the room. "Want to have some fun?"

"I don't consider torture fun, Dylan," Marco chastised. "However, maybe just this once." Dylan laughed, and then leaned over to kiss his boyfriend.

It wasn't really an appropriate kiss and, as he said, Marco didn't generally like to show off his sexuality to bother others. In fact, he usually liked to make everyone else feel more comfortable by pretending he wasn't, but Dylan showed him it didn't matter what other people thought. Sometimes, they just found it enjoyable to physically show that they didn't care.

"Ahem, uh, Mr. Michalchuk?" Dylan turned his head to the nurse waiting with the clipboard in hand. "Are you parents here?"

"They're on their way," he replied, standing up with Marco.

"Well, why don't you come in?" she smiled.

"Wait…is…did it….I…?" he stuttered, not really knowing how to ask.

"Your sister had a beautiful baby girl. Come on, dear." Dylan was completely in shock. Marco laughed.

"Can I come in?" Marco asked, wondering if he was allowed to.

She tilted her head to the side, thinking. She took a look at all of the patrons in the waiting room and at Dylan's look of pure alarm, and sighed. "I think you'd better."

Marco took Dylan's hand, leading him quietly to the room. They walked into the room where Paige was staying and were pleasantly surprised by the sight before them. Mike was sitting close to Paige on the bed, rubbing her hand gently while Paige held their daughter.

Daughter. The word sounded weird to all of them. Dylan and Marco weren't in there a second before the door was pushed open by Paige and Dylan's parents. Every little bit of anger, confusion, pain, and, misfortune, was pushed out of every person's mind as they saw this little baby in front of them. Mrs. Michalchuk began to cry and begged to hold her.

Dylan smiled. He'd finally realized this was real. He had a niece! A beautiful niece she was too. After his mother had had a good ten minutes of fondling her, Dylan decided it was his turn, and snatched the child away from her. She didn't seem to mind, enjoying the fact that her son was loving this as much as she was.

"Marco, look," said Dylan smiling blissfully. Marco smiled automatically at Dylan's face. He'd never seen him so happy. He looked almost like a child showing his parents the wonderful scribbles he had drawn on the paper. He whispered, "Look at my niece, Marco. Our niece," he corrected himself.

Dylan's father looked on uncomfortably. Nothing would ever make him despise their relationship because of the homosexuality, but to see such affection slightly unnerved him just a bit. He smiled, nodding his head at Dylan to show he wanted a chance with the baby.

"Oh," said Dylan, handing her over. He kissed her head, pushing back the few little hairs she had.

"So, Paige," Marco turned to the neglected mother in her bed, "what are you naming her?"

"We were thinking Julia, right Mike?" she looked up at him. He nodded.

"Yes, I've always liked that name."

"Come on, Dyl, let's leave them alone for a bit."

They walked out together, hand in hand, to get some fresh air out of the hospital. It was dark and cold, but Marco really wanted to be out there.

"I want to do it," Marco said suddenly.

"Do what?" Dylan asked, confused.

"Forget about the pre-engagement thing until we're ready….I want a real engagement. I want to marry you, and I have absolutely NO more doubts."

……………………………………………………………………………….

Sometimes, in life, things don't always turn out the way they were planned. Actually, that happens a lot. However, sometimes it's something little. For example, when Marco signed up for certain classes, and was given the wrong ones. They said they couldn't fix it.

Sure, at the time, it seemed like the end of the world because nobody in the world really manages to think positively all the time like, 'It could be worse'. Of course, everyone wishes they could, and sometimes people can, but never all the time. That just doesn't happen.

Ever since Marco was a little child, he'd had strict routines. He didn't know how else to function, probably due to his severe obsessive-compulsive disorder, along with the family he grew up in. But just because he was used to it and it helped him function, doesn't mean he had to like it.

Dylan had always taught him that routine was boring. The week before the accident (He was getting sick and tired of calling it that. He was going to start calling it the 'purpose'.) Dylan had lectured him about how he had to switch things around:

"Marco…I love you, but you're insane. Besides, if you do the same thing everyday…what do you have to look forward to? Just take it as it comes; don't worry about the future."

That was what he had said. On occasion, Marco wished he were like Dylan in that way. He was free spirited, not afraid of anything, and never looked down on himself. Then, there were other times when he was glad he wasn't like Dylan because a week after he had said that, he was in a coma. He certainly wasn't prepared for that. However, Marco certainly wished he were in Dylan's position rather than having to watch it day by day.

Marco got up at five-thirty, ready to start his day. He went about his morning routine, which had changed slightly over the year and half as he said a prayer for Dylan before he left for school.

He quickly got dressed, deciding on the simple look of jeans and a black t-shirt. He couldn't be bothered to look fancy after the previous night had sort of drained his energy. He took one last look around before deciding everything was as it should be, and closed the door.

Marco wanted to go to his classes, and wanted to go to work. He honestly did, but…who could concentrate? Besides, he was going to finally take his boyfriend's advice to live a little. He was cutting for the day. No big deal. He wouldn't freak out…that much.

He sighed. "I need coffee."

He sat down in an unfamiliar café, with a cup of coffee in hand, when his cell phone rang. He was trying to avoid the world for the day! He groaned.

"Hello, Paige," he spoke coldly, wondering what she needed.

"Marco, please listen to me. I need you to listen to me," she pleaded with him for no interruptions or hang-ups. His silence was the signal for her to proceed.

"I never said I was going to do it for sure. I told the woman I was thinking about it. Just thinking. But you have to understand my situation….you know how much it hurts me too that he's…in this situation…but I'm thinking about it because it has to be done."

"No, it doesn't," Marco argued, trying to keep himself from crying again. "Can't you just have faith in him? In me? Hell, if you're religious, in God? Have faith in someone, Paige because he's going to wake up! I know it, please!"

"Marco…you're not thinking clearly, and I get that because it's how I felt before I saw the light, but Dylan has been in a lasting coma for a year and almost seven months. Try to think of that."

"People have lasted in comas for…like ten years! They still wok up, some of them, and he can too, Paige!"

"I know he can, Marco, but what happens if he does wake up thirty years from now, and he looks in the mirror and he doesn't like the same? And his niece…was a mere six month old and now, she's thirty-two? I know my brother, Marco. That's not what he'd want."

"Damnit, Paige…I know you're right, but for just one second, aren't I allowed to be selfish? Aren't I allowed to cry and scream and throw a tantrum because I want him to stay alive. Can't I just want to be happy even if he's not? I know that sounds terrible, but aren't I allowed to be greedy for once?"

"No, you're not because then you wouldn't be Marco, now would you? You wouldn't be the boy Dylan loved."

"Loves," Marco corrected, his voice shaking. "He still loves me, and he's not going anywhere. Paige, if you love me, you won't do this. Please."

Paige sighed. "I'm not going to do this forever, Marco, but I suppose I'll wait a bit…until you come to your senses, but I'm telling you the truth. Whether we take him off the machines, or he still lives on them, he's dead either way. Marco, he's not living his life; you're trying to live it for him. I'm not insensitive. I, of course, know what you're going through, but…" she paused. Marco could hear her whispering.

"Sorry. Julia needs my help, and I need to get to work. I'm driving myself mad," she laughed, trying to lighten the tense mood. "Look, Marco, understand Dylan. Think about what he would want."

Marco shook his head, forgetting she couldn't see him. "I don't care if I'm being stubborn. I don't want to think about what he would want because I don't know what he would want, but then again, he probably didn't want to end up in this situation in the first place!"

"I'll tell you another things he wouldn't want: us fighting. I'm coming, Julia! Patience! I have to go, Marco."

"Bye," he whispered. Suddenly, he wished he were back on his routine.

A/N: Hmm…I'm not sure about this one. I really need opinions! Please review!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I really cannot handle anything in my family anymore. Anyway, most chapters are going to be starting with a flashback, so it's almost like there's two stories going on, the past and the present. Understand? Hope you like it :). Oh, and the second part of the chapter is in the first person point of view in Marco's head. Just so you don't get confused. Also, one more thing, I've been asked why Paige's parents aren't part of this decision to take Dylan off of Life Support. They are, but I'll get into that in more detail in the story.

"Oh, no…where'd Uncle Dilly go?" Paige asked her daughter, feigning apprehension.

Julia looked around, scared for a moment until Dylan popped out from under his blanket. She giggled.

"Here I am!" he shouted, scooping her out of the high chair. Marco laughed from his position on the kitchen counter.

"I want to hold her," he held out his arms. There was hardly a moment when Dylan wasn't holding Julia. Through some of the long nights Paige stayed up with her, she couldn't say she minded.

Dylan raised an eyebrow in thought. "Hmm, can I trust you?"

Marco rolled his eyes. "Of course," he laughed, waiting for the baby.

"Okay," Dylan still looked slightly apprehensive as he handed him carefully over. "Don't drop him," he warned.

"And that's _just_ want I was planning on doing," said Marco sarcastically. (Yes, I got the line from Queer As Folk.)

"Dylan," Paige sighed, "do you know how nervous I was letting you hold her? Marco's a natural with babies. He'd never hurt her; relax."

Dylan followed his younger sister's orders, knowing she was right, and handed the baby quickly over to Marco.

"Hi, Julia," said Marco, smiling. "How are you today, my love?" he asked, knowing she could only answer with her smile.

Paige; however, was sure she could make her talk, even at the tender age of a month.

"Come on, baby," she coaxed Julia, as she lay happily in Marco's arms.

"Give it up, Paige. Wait until she's at least two months, if you have to start soon," he laughed, "because she's not going to speak."

Paige sighed. "She makes noises sometimes," she defended.

"Yeah," said Dylan, "so did you when you were that little, but noises are one thing. Trying to make her talk in full sentences is quite another thing."

She threw her hands in the air, walking out of the kitchen. She paused dramatically in the kitchen doorway. "Why don't you raise my daughter, hun?"

Marco and Dylan laughed at her anger. Dylan sat down in the chair that was closest to Marco. Marco took his lead and he, too, sat down. Dylan watched Marco as he subconsciously rubbed the back of her head. Dylan smiled at him.

Marco could always feel when Dylan was looking at him. He looked up, looking him in the eyes. "What? You need her back already?" he asked, disappointed.

"No," he answered. "I just love the way you hold her," he said honestly.

"Oh, I see…come here," Marco gestured for Dylan to move closer. "Now, I have a crazy question for you, Dyl. You don't have to answer if you think it's insane, but I see the way you look at Julia…"

Dylan wasn't one to pick up hints. "Yes?" he asked.

"After we're married, would you want to adopt? Not right away, of course. It's just…I've always wanted a child, Dylan, and you seem so good with Julia."

"We'd definitely have to talk about that," Dylan laughed. "It's not something I can answer on the spot, but I think that would be something good."

"Is that a yes?" Marco asked, hopeful.

Julia noticed the lack of attention she was getting, and brought the two men alive by starting to cry.

"Shh, Jule, it's okay, baby!" said Marco, trying to soothe her. He kissed her forehead, running her into her mother's bedroom.

When he returned, he found Dylan with a look of pure terror on his face. He'd barely ever been in the room when Julia cried.

"That's definitely leaning closer to a maybe…" said Dylan.

…………………………………………………………………………………...

Dylan would have loved to have been there when Julia spoke her first word and when she started to walk. The first word was nothing too exciting, really. It was dog. No one really knew why she chose to say dog, since we were sure she had never even see one, but we accepted it because everyone was too damn excited to wonder why that was the first one.

Paige and Mike would have loved for it to have been one of them, of course, but I was actually pretty happy it wasn't. If it had been involving Mike, Paige would have gotten jealous, and we certainly didn't want them to have a fight.

Mostly, I've gotten used to the schedule with Julia. Every Monday night, both Paige and Mike had to work late and the babysitter had to leave straight after five, so I would head over to hang out with her until either her mother or father arrived home. Other days, when I had time after my own classes were done, I'd alleviate the babysitter because…Julia didn't like her, and tended to show her that.

I walked my way over to Paige's apartment. Just because I wasn't happy with what she wanted to do, didn't mean I was going to stop helping her out with Julia. Besides, it gave me a chance to talk more about it. I never knocked, which usually scared the babysitter (Jennifer, I believe) half to death. I guess I sort of agreed with Julia on the babysitter. She was pretty annoying.

"Hi," I said, walking in.

"Unca Marco!" Julia shouted, running to me as soon as I walked through the door. I laughed, lifting her up.

"Hey, sweetie, miss me much?" I asked, running my hands through her hair.

Jennifer stood from her position on the couch. "I'm going to be leaving, then, if you don't mind?"

"Oh, no, I don't. I'm sure Paige left money…"

"I got it, thank you," she walked past the two of us, closing the door silently behind her. Julia wrinkled up her nose in distaste.

"Aww, now Jule, come on," I said, though I didn't like the woman much either.

Julia sighed. "Gone now."

I laughed. "Well, yes, she definitely is. Come on; sit down. Tell me all about your day." That was Julia's favorite part of her day, getting to talk about it.

"Well, mommy left for work dis mornin' and then Jenniffa came over." Not much of a surprise beginning. "Den, Jenniffa and me eated bweakfast…and watched movies."

"Sounds like an eventful day, hmm?" I asked, trying to sound entertained by her story.

She nodded her head enthusiastically. "You?" she asked. There were some rare occasions when she liked to know what was going on in my life. I sighed, thinking of something to tell her. Nothing really had happened, in all honesty. I'd had a cup of coffee and talked to Paige…a conversation I decided, this time, I wouldn't repeat.

Apparently, I had taken too long to respond. "See, Unca Dilly?" she asked.

"What? OH, no. I didn't visit him today." Why didn't I? I don't know. I guess it was getting more difficult to look at him each day when I knew that my faith was wearing thin. It was scary to even comprehend that on the inside, I'd given up. On the outside, I told people I hadn't, but my mind still said… 'Marco, it's SO unlikely now.' After the conversation with Paige, it was even harder to think about visiting him. It was almost like he knew I was keeping the secret from him.

Julia frowned at my silence. She put her tiny hand into my own, and I held onto it tightly, willing myself to be strong in front of her. She moved her head in front of mine so that I couldn't look away from her. I smiled at her.

"Sad, Unca Marco?" she asked, probably already aware of my answer.

I couldn't lie to her, so I just nodded. "Yes, I am."

She shook her head, purposely swishing her hair into her face. "Doon't be," she said sing-songedly.

"I'll try," I answered.

She sighed. Not good enough. "Tell me…a stowy," she said. She did not ask; she merely demanded that a story was going to be told.

"About?" I asked.

She looked at me like I was hopeless. She rolled her eyes. "You know who!"

"Oh, alright…well, I have to try to keep this G-rated." She giggled, laying her head in my lap, prepared for the story.

Sometimes talking helped. Sometimes it didn't. Sometimes…I had to test it out just to see what happened. Basically, there was always a 'sometimes' when it came to anything lately.

"Well, when I was about fifteen, I met the love of my life," I started.

"Oh, a new one?" she asked.

"Yeah. You wanted to hear one of the old ones?"

"Nope. New is good. Is the love of your life Unca Dilly?" she asked, still smiling.

"Jule, you know that!" I answered in the same way she had answered me.

"So, it was at a beach. Well, actually, it was in your grandmother's van on the way to the beach. Anyway, I walked into the car…"

Most of the night was spent telling stories about the past. Julia enjoyed them so much, and after one, I just kept going without any requests. It was like telling her made it real. It wasn't a dream, or a memory. It was about a person who would be there again, and, maybe to Julia, he seemed just like a fairy tale (from the amazing way I portrayed him in the stories) or just a tired man in a hospital bed, but to me…he would always be so much more.

"Julia? Marco?" asked Mike, coming through the door.

"Daddy!!!" Julia squealed, excited. He laughed.

"Hello, sunshine. Can I talk to Uncle Marco alone for a second?" he asked his daughter. She nodded, happy to fulfill the favor.

"You going to visit Dylan tonight?" asked Mike, looking uncomfortable bringing up the topic.

I shrugged. "I don't know."

Mike gently put his hand on my shoulder. I looked up. "Well, Paige knows how much Julia enjoys going with you and…she doesn't know what she's going to do or when, but she told me to tell you that she'd like it if Julia went with you if you go tonight."

"Julia and I talked about him quite a bit. I guess it wouldn't hurt," I said, trying to put myself in Paige's position, no matter how much it hurt.

"Thank you," said Mike. "I'll go tell her. I'm sure she'll be thrilled."

A/N: Hope you liked it! Please review. I feel so accomplished. Lol. I got two…somewhat lengthy chapters up in one weekend. I'm pretty surprised. Anyway, as always, I'd love to have your thoughts.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I have a question for you all. Please review, (haha, I'm tricking you into reviewing! Lol just kidding) and tell me your thoughts on this. I have a new idea for a story…that sort of hit me in the face (literally) when I banged into a wall in my school's hallway this morning. Lol. I know what happens to me when I have an idea…it never leaves me alone until I tell someone about it, or write it, so here's the deal. I can begin to write it, and you'll have a new Darco story out there by me to read, but the updates on this and that won't be as frequent if I have two stories to write plus obviously everything else on my plate. Or, I can wait until this is done, then I will start that story. I do want your opinion, even though, in the end, I will probably have to make up my own mind. And I think I may have figured out how to italicize.

"_So, let me get this straight, you want to tell your father about us?" Dylan asked, pleasantly surprised._

"_Dyl, I think it's about time," said Marco. "Besides, if we're to be married, he'll obviously have to know about it."_

"_What if he doesn't accept it, though?"_

_Dylan opened the door to the apartment they shared together. He allowed Marco to walk in first, and he shut it behind them._

_Marco sighed in response, letting his head fall into his hands, and sitting down on the couch. "Just let me worry about that, okay?" he laughed. "Wait, since when does Dylan Michalchuk get…concerned, anyway?"_

_Dylan shrugged, putting his arm around Marco, in hopes that it would help him relax. "When it comes to matters like you being dragged away to Italy in the middle of the night with me having no way to find you, I get pretty concerned," he replied, trying to lighten the mood._

"_Oh, I see," said Marco. "Well, let's hope it doesn't come to that. Though, I think you're wrong about Italy; it'll probably just be our church."_

_Dylan wanted to tell Marco that everything was going to be okay. He wanted to say that, no matter what, his father would accept it and be happy for him; however, he knew that might not be the case, so he had to work with the situation. He simply embraced Marco tightly, holding him close. Though the gesture didn't help anything really, Marco seemed to appreciate it._

"_Let's have dinner," he said, opening up the freezer._

_Marco woke up at eight-thirty, surprised that he had slept so late in light of the coming event. He had no idea how his father was going to react, but from the way he took it when Marco told him he was gay, he assumed it wouldn't be too good. Dylan was obviously awake, and seemed to sense his worry. He put his arm across his chest._

"_I won't force you to do this, Marco," said Dylan._

_Marco shook his head quickly. "I wa—have to," he answered firmly, getting out of bed._

"_Marrrrco," Dylan whined. "Too early!"_

"_I am not making **you** get up, Dylan," said Marco, always the voice of reason. However, Dylan knew he wouldn't get away with it if he didn't get up soon._

"_I'll tell you what: when I'm done with breakfast, then you must be up. Deal?" Dylan knew it was no use. He nodded, falling back down, hoping he might get some more sleep before breakfast._

_As soon as Dylan smelled food, he got out of bed, (without being told) and strolled into the kitchen wearing a pair of sweatpants; he hadn't bothered to get dressed because he had smelled eggs. His favorite._

"_Mornin'," said Marco cheerfully._

_Dylan grunted out the best greeting he could. He was hungry and tired. Not a good combination. After Dylan took some food and some orange juice to go along with it, they were both too concentrated on filling their hunger to speak. Finally, Dylan decided to face the topic that he knew had to be, indeed, faced._

"_Want me to go with you?" Dylan asked, referring to Marco's discussion with his father._

_Marco looked Dylan over. "Oh, yes, that would be great. Dad, this is my shirtless fiancé…he sleeps that way. Hun, that would be a bad beginning."_

_Dylan laughed. "You know I'd change."_

"_I know you're tired. And, no, Dylan I don't want you to come with me. I'd rather just call you on my way home to let you know to evacuate the building, leave all the stuff behind you, and meet me at the train station so we can flee town, and elope. Therefore, I won't have to worry about seeing you murdered before my very eyes."_

"_Marco," Dylan laughed. "Seriously. Do you want me to go?"_

_Marco shook his head. "I was being serious. No, you stay. Eat. Do whatever. I'll be back as soon as I can escape."_

"_Good luck," said Dylan._

"_Love you," Marco replied, already out the door._

_Marco slowly walked up the driveway to his parents' house, wondering why it seemed so foreign even though he had only been living with Dylan for a few months. He sighed. He really was more afraid than he let on to Dylan._

_His parents never expected him to knock. His mother explained that it reminded her that he wasn't living there anymore, and it hurt, so he walked right in._

_Said woman spotted him right away. He smiled as best as he could, accepting the hug his mother offered._

"_Hey, ma," he said softly._

_She smiled widely. "Can I make you something?" she asked. _

_He wanted to say no, that he had already eaten, but he couldn't bring himself to take away that joy she got cooking for him. It was the same he had for cooking for Dylan. _

"_Sure," he answered, hoping he could just get this over with. As it turned out, his father was seated at the table, a newspaper in hand. He put it down when his son entered the room._

"_Marco," he said, also excited to see him._

_Marco tried to smile back. His mother was one thing, but…how could he give a true smile when he knew he was about to break his father's heart all over again? He just started accepting Marco as a son again. Doing this would ruin everything. Maybe…no. There could be no reconsiderations._

"_Hi, Pa…how are you?" he asked, wondering how he was supposed to go about it._

_He laughed. "Good, good. Have a seat!" Marco did so, not so willingly._

_Marco breathed in and out deeply, looking at his mother who, he wasn't sure if she knew what he was planning, looked worried, he almost lost confidence. _

"_I'm not here under good circumstances. I need to tell you something, dad," he said, praying for an easy way out, knowing there was no way he'd get one._

"_What?" his father looked worried. "What's wrong?"_

"_Well, you know how I've been living with Dylan? It's not…I'm…okay. Dad…" something Paige had taught him was it was easier to just spill it out quickly. He wasn't sure if it would work, but he had to try something._

"_Dylan…is my boyfriend, dad. I'm going to marry him."_

_Oh.My.Gosh._

_Why did he do that?_

_He could not think about anything except what his father was going to say, do, or think._

_Did he really think this was a good idea?!_

"_Pa, say something!" Marco urged. It was like that moment in time when he'd seen his father's heart shatter the first time. However, this time was different for two reasons. One: Marco obviously hadn't learned from his first mistake that telling his father was a bad idea. Two: Marco wasn't going to dump Dylan this time._

"_How can you possibly want to do this…he is a boy!" his father said, disgusted. "I don't understand."_

"No, you don't," he answered, agreeing. Marco had found his strength. If his father was going to say something against his relationship with Dylan, he would retaliate. Anger made him forget worry.

"_Because if you did, it wouldn't matter that is he a 'boy'," said Marco._

"_So, what enjoyment do you get out of this relationship?" his father asked, obviously clueless._

_Marco blinked. "What are you on about, dad? I LOVE him, and he loves me. That's what I get. That's my 'enjoyment'."_

_His father rolled his eyes. "I don't see how it is possible that this is anything more than rebellion."_

"_Oh, yes, dad. If it were rebellion, wouldn't it have stopped by now? I am marrying him."_

"_A marriage between two men is not a real marriage," he replied firmly._

"_Dad," Marco started, sitting down again. At some point in his speech, he hadn't really noticed, but apparently, he stood up. He calmed his breathing, refusing to get angry._

"_By who's standards is it not real? Yours. Tell me something about the word 'real', Pa. Would it be 'real' if I married a girl? Would it be 'real' that I was lying to her, myself, you, and everyone else?"_

_Evidently, his father didn't see things the same way. "I will put up with his…er…identity confusion, because I know you're not really…gay, if you don't go along with this made-up thing you're planning with some faggot," he said, spitting the word as though it was more disgusting to be that way than to call someone that._

_Marco couldn't deal with it anymore. It was one thing to make him feel wrong…but what he said was unneeded._

_He stood up, pushing his chair back in as calmly as possible. He then moved out to the hallway, his father looking up at him in shock._

"_You will not answer me? You're going to leave…for this disgusting--"_

"_Nobody puts my boyfriend in the same sentence as disgusting and gets away with it. Not even you." He slammed the door behind him._

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Before Marco had met Dylan, he didn't believe in soul mates. He also didn't believe in love. Of course, he believed some people fell in love; that was undeniable to him, but he didn't believe there was a love-love.

It was hard to explain, really. Marco had seen so many movies where the main character fall desperately in love, and her heart stops beating and beats faster than it ever has before all at the same time; others where **he** would lay down his life for **her** without a second thought. Oh, and there was also the ever popular, "I could never want to be with anyone else, now that I've met you." Oh, yes, it all sounded good in the movies, but there was no such thing. Though Marco didn't believe in any of that kind of love, he did believe in happy endings for couples. His views changed.

The day he had his first kiss with Dylan was _exactly_ like a movie. In fact, he'd actually wanted to quote some characters from some of his favorite (though in his opinion, unbelievable) romance movies. It was that perfect heart-pounding moment, that feeling where he felt he could fly. Yes, fly. And there was nothing stopping him from receiving, at that moment, anything he really wanted. The best part was, when Dylan moved away, he was still happy. Yes! After the kiss ended, there was no pain, even though he did want to do it again soon.

The point is, after that kiss, Marco believed there was such a thing as true heart stopping, fireworks shooting, mind numbing, love. It really was out there, and most importantly, Marco had it. His mind had been changed since then on two things. One: He believed in that love. Two: He no longer believed in happy endings. Maybe there was such a thing, but it honestly didn't look like he was getting one.

Marco held Julia's hand as they walked into the hospital room he'd grown so familiar to. Julia knew she was supposed to feel sad when she went in there, but she couldn't contain the smile that showed off her excitement of being there. She loved visiting her Uncle. It made him feel real.

Marco touched Dylan's hand as he did normally, without a thought. Julia followed him example, quickly grabbing Dylan's other hand. He laughed softly, shaking his head, and she withdrew her hand.

"Can I talk?" she asked.

Marco nodded. "Of course."

"Hello, Unca Dilly. Haven't been here in a wooong time, but do ya renemba me?" she asked, intelligent enough to understand that he couldn't answer. However, she waited a moment anyway, and then nodded her head.

"Well, I hope you get all better soon. Unca Marco talks 'bout you all da time. I know he loves you lots. Mommy too, and me. We miss you…even if I don't nemba you too much," she said bluntly. "I still want you to come back awaked."

Marco smiled at her innocence. She had stopped talking. Apparently, that was all she had really thought of to say. It was good enough for him, though. Enough to make him feel a little better.

"Ah, Marco, nice to see you, dear," said Nurse Diana, coming in for a moment. Marco wasn't sure what she was in there for, but didn't really care. He nodded.

"You too," though it wasn't really honest. He knew the nurses and doctors had given up, and he didn't appreciate it.

"Can I talk to you alone a second, dear?" she said, not really requesting, but showing it was necessary. Marco nodded.

The nurse never let Julia stay in the room alone, so if they needed to talk, it was done on the other side of the room.

"Marco, he's still…here, as you know, but the brain activity, there's barely anything left."

"Are you trying to upset me?" he asked, waiting for her point.

She sighed. "The more you come to see him, the harder it will be when Paige signs the papers."

Marco's eyes widened. Had she made the decision officially?

"No," the nurse answered his unasked question, "she hasn't fully decided, Marco, but she has realized he's not coming back. Once she gets that in her mind, she's never going to get it out."

"The papers will not be signed," Marco said, keeping that notion in his head. It was the only thing that proved to him there was a little tiny bit of hope.

She almost smiled. "They will be signed." She put her hand on his shoulder, and left the room.

A/N: So, yes, I still need your opinion on the other story I mentioned at the beginning of the chapter. I hope you liked this chapter! Please review!


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: This chapter was sort of difficult to write because I knew _exactly_ where I wanted it to go, but for some reason, it wasn't getting there the right way…then it was. Bah. The point is it was slightly difficult. I've decided I'm going to wait until this is done to start the new story. Oh my gosh! Friday is the Darco episode! I know that it's the subplot, but I'm still terrified! If anyone sees it before Friday or something, please tell me what happens!

"_I can't; I'll be watching Julia," said Marco, picking up the little girl from her crib._

"_You can't bring her?" Dylan asked, disappointed. Marco shook his head._

"_No, not really. Look, it depends on when Paige comes to get her. If she comes early enough, she, Julia, and I may go together, alright?" he said, wanting to form a compromise._

"_Alright," Dylan gave in, seeing no other way he'd get Marco to come see his game. "I'm leaving early anyway. There are some things I want to practice and all that."_

"_Oh," said Marco, "you mean it's just you there?"_

"_Sometimes others show up early too. You never know," he shrugged, taking Julia out of Marco's arms._

"_Maybe you'll come see my game, huh?" he said, tickling her sides._

_She giggled in response, grabbing Dylan's finger when he tried to give her back to Marco. Marco laughed._

"_You'll be here for a while. There's no way she's going to let you out of her death grip," said Marco._

_Dylan laughed as well. "Juuuulia, I've gotta go!" He pulled in finger out of her grasp as gently as he could, grabbing his equipment bag on the way out._

"_I hope to see you there," said Dylan, leaning against the doorframe._

_Marco nodded, too busy to answer, as Julia had started crying. "Relax," he soothed._

_------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_Dylan walked slowly into the locker room. He understood why Marco couldn't come. After all, Dylan was the one who had suggested the two of them would watch Julia once or twice a week. Unfortunately for Marco, Dylan got busy with hockey quite a lot and; therefore, Marco usually got stuck alone with her. Dylan had no reason to blame Marco for not being able to make his game. Besides, he was going to try._

_Dylan sighed. He loved when Marco came to watch him play, and so did his coach because Marco's being there gave him more incentive to help them win the game. _

_He looked around, surprised no one on his team had arrived yet. It wasn't that early. Odd…but not important, he ignored it. He changed into his uniform, closed the locker, and walked out into the rink._

_He frowned slightly. 'Where was everyone?' He didn't mind practicing a bit for alone, but usually he liked to fool around with some of his teammates before the game. He grabbed his stick from the wall he had it standing on. _

"_Dylan Michalchuk," said a quiet voice from the stands. Dylan turned to look at the boy, raising an eyebrow. _

"_Evan Sanders," he said, in the same tone he'd spoken Dylan's name. Evan was dressed and ready for the game as well. He played for the opposing team. Honestly, Dylan never had any problem with the guy. He'd played him a couple times before._

_Evan's smiling face suddenly turned into pure disgust. "Did you just change in there?" he asked._

_Dylan's raised eyebrow raised even higher. What was the boy on about? Why did he care? _

"_Yeah, so?" Dylan realized what Evan must have been talking about. He rolled his eyes. Honestly, no one was even in there! Besides, if anyone was, it's not like he'd have been watching their every move as they changed._

"_I can't believe you have no **shame**, Michalchuk," he said, shaking his head, and moving closer._

_Dylan knew he should have ignored him. Evan was only trying to provoke him. However, the thought of arguing seemed so much more appealing than being quiet. Also, he didn't want Evan thinking he couldn't fight back._

"_Why should I be ashamed?" asked Dylan._

_Evan blinked, almost surprised Dylan had the nerve to respond in such a self confident way. "Of who…**what** you are," he said._

"_I like the way I am. At least," Dylan looked Evan over, knowing he was providing fuel for the fire, "**I'm** attractive."_

Evan laughed. "Please, Dylan. Like I'd desire for you to find me attractive. In any case, you probably have no taste."

"_Oh, right," Dylan replied, already sick of this stupid conversation. "I have no taste. Whatever you say."_

_Marco had always taught him to ignore what people said. Marco may not have been an expert when it came to being a homosexual, or even very good at accepting himself, but he knew how to protect himself. Dylan knew how…he simply didn't care. Finally, though, he decided maybe it would just be better to walk away. So, he didn't get to practice, what did it matter?_

_He went to turn back to the locker room when it occurred it him: it did matter. He was letting this guy walk all over him, and he was there first._

_Evan continued his taunting. "Hockey's a man's sport, Dylan. It's not for people like you," said Evan._

_Dylan had to laugh, a laugh full of actual humor. "You are so stereotypical, but I'll humor you. Even I were a girl, girls can play hockey. Do I even look a bit feminine to you?" he asked._

"_You want me to answer that?" he asked, smirking. _

"_You're not even worth it, Sanders," said Dylan, turning to walk back into the locker room. He'd tried to stand his ground, but he wasn't in the mood for a fight, especially not right before his game._

_Though Dylan had begun to walk away, Evan continued to talk as though he was standing right before him._

"_You're going to hell, the whole lot of you."_

_A comment he'd heard numerous times before; it didn't bother him anymore. He was able to simply ignore it._

"_Filthy, disgusting, faggots."_

_More provocation. He wouldn't give in. There was no reason to give in. He had heard it all before._

"_And this boyfriend of yours…is he any good?" asked Evan. Dylan didn't ask what he meant, though he had no idea. Evan probably didn't even know what he meant either._

_It was all just simple provocation. Evan wanted him to fight, and Dylan wouldn't give him that satisfaction._

"_Damnit, Michalchuk!" Members from both teams had started to arrive, including fans in the stands, and the coaches. Dylan and Evan barely even noticed. Dylan was too inclined to make it on his slow walk (if he were trying to get away, he would have gone faster, but as much as he convinced himself Evan's comments weren't bothering him, they obviously were) to the locker room. Dylan was so concentrated on the walk he barely had any time to register the fact that he was being called._

_One call. That's all the person had time to do. One yell of "Dylan!" and then the pain struck for one meager second, and everything went black._

_-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

"_This cannot be happening!" yelled Paige, as she paced the waiting room floor. "I wish we could just hear SOMETHING._

"_Paige," her father whispered, barely able to speak any louder, "please sit down."_

"_Sit down?! Dad, why…how…" she took a deep breath. "How can you expect me to sit down?!"_

"_I didn't think it was that confusing of a request," he answered, patting the chair next to him._

_She reluctantly agreed, feeling the power of her legs falling. "I don't even know where the hell my daughter is!"_

"_Yes, you do," her father gently ran his fingers through her hair. "She is with Marco. You just want to worry about something."_

"_Can you blame me?" she asked, leaning into his touch, slowly, but surely, relaxing a bit._

_He shook his head. _

"_It's just that," Paige went on, getting slightly hysterical again, "first it was mom, now Dylan!" The moment the words left her mouth, she really wanted to shove the back in._

_Her father pretended the comment didn't affect him, though she could tell he became slightly stiff._

"_Dylan is not going to die," he told her, without any doubt._

_Paige tried, with all her might, to stop saying things that made herself hurt even more, but she couldn't help it. She broke down._

"_Daddy…he…the boy…didn't stop! Dylan was down…out…unconscious, and people were there, finally someone decided to get help, but he kept beating him! It was like all he wanted was for him to bleed! Why would someone do that? I know I sound naïve, but…how can someone do that?"_

_Paige managed to calm down for a moment. "You're right, dad," she said, confident in her father's words. "Dylan won't die."_

_Her father nodded. "Good."_

"_And, I'm sorry," said Paige, "about mom."_

"_You didn't kill her. It was the disease."_

"_I'm sorry that I brought it up," she said, feeling almost as though she was making it worse as she continued to speak. Her father nodded._

"_It's alright."_

"_Paige! Mr. Michalchuk!" exclaimed Marco, running into the hospital with Julia in his hands, fast asleep._

_If the situation were any different, Paige would have laughed. Marco's shoes were untied, and he had them on the opposite feet. Obviously, Julia had done something to his shirt, (most likely, spit up on it) as he was wearing a different one than he had been earlier that day, and it looked like he had changed it right before he left because the buttons were all screwed up. Paige frowned. It was so odd for Marco to look completely disheveled. He was usually so concerned with his appearance._

"_Well," he looked expectantly at the two of them, waiting for someone to say something, "what the hell happened?!"_

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

It had been leukemia that killed Paige's mother. It had been extremely difficult for Dylan, Paige, and of course, their father, to get over the death, but it helped that they were slightly expecting it. Sadly, they really were. Paige had kept her faith the whole way through, but after her mother died, it became a lot harder for her to deal with Dylan's coma. Her mother never made it through her disease, so she was convinced Dylan wouldn't be able to awake from his sleep.

There was no doubt that Dylan had taken his mother's death hard, but he'd been the one to help the rest through it. He'd always been accepting, meaning he understood life ends; there's no way around it, and we have to go on with life. A lot of people like to try to think that way, but Dylan managed it successfully, which was part of the reason Paige thought he wouldn't want to be kept on machines. Quite simply, she felt he'd just want to die. Get it over with.

Their father's reaction; however, had been very surprising. The day after the "accident", he had specifically told Paige that they were going to work out, in some way, (involving legal matters and such) that he would not be involved in the decision. Marco had been quite interested in his reasoning, but when he asked Paige, she'd simply told him that he trusted her, and couldn't live with the thought of being responsible for killing another family member after his wife's.

They'd gone through all the "legal matters" as Mr. Michalchuk dubbed them, and Paige had become the involved one in all matters involving Dylan. It was a job no one really wanted, but Paige understood why her father gave it to her, and she thought she was intelligent enough to know when enough was enough.

When Paige had been given the job, she had so much faith and hope. She even pretty much said that she was never going to pull him off the machines. He'd make it. However, hope fades after a long while of nothing. She gave up, the way so many do.

Marco bustled around his kitchen, looking for something to possibly eat. He'd forgotten to go shopping again. He'd been so distracted. He sighed.

"I'm going to actually go to school today," he muttered to himself, grabbing the last granola bar from the cabinet, and throwing the box away.

Marco slowly got into Dylan's car, and drove. Just because he was having problems in his life, he wasn't going to fail out of college.

He walked in through the front doors. Not particularly watching where he was going, he knocked into someone.

"Oh my god," said the other boy. "I'm sorry," he held his hand out for Marco to grab. Marco accepted it gratefully, smoothing his shirt self-consciously.

"My fault," he said, picking up his bag, and beginning to walk away. He knew this boy, and wasn't in the mood for a conversation.

"Hey," he said, walking in the same direction. Marco should have known. They were heading toward the same wing.

"Hi," said Marco, sighing. There was nothing wrong with the Stephen. It was just, he'd simply cut himself off from people since what happened to Dylan, and he'd met Stephen at a time where he didn't want to talk to people he didn't know. Stephen didn't understand that, and Marco didn't expect him to, considering he'd never tried to tell him about Dylan, but he still wished he'd go away.

"Marco, I've been meaning to talk to you about something," said Stephen, somewhat nervous.

Marco raised an eyebrow, figuring class could wait, and waited for Stephen to speak. He sighed.

"I just…" Marco never assumed Stephen to be a nervous guy, but he helped him along.

"What's up?" he asked, trying to sound less cold and distant.

Stephen seemed to relax immediately. "Well, I just really like you, Marco, and…I understand if you don't want to…but I know that you're, you know, gay, but if you're not interested in me, I get it."

Marco was shocked. He stood still and silent. What was he to say? Sure, Stephen was really sweet and, at times where Marco was not all caught up in things with Julia and Dylan, they had a lot of fun together hanging out. If there hadn't been a Dylan, Stephen would have been extremely attractive in Marco's eyes. In fact, there was no denying Marco did find him attractive, but…he wasn't Dylan.

"Stephen," he said softly.

"Marco," Stephen said in the same tone, awaiting an answer to the question he hadn't really even asked.

"I have to go to class. I'll talk to you later."

A/N: Again, Friday's the episode here in NY, so I'm waiting patiently and…scared. Please review!


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Yeah, don't know what's going to happen in, "If you Leave," though I'm terribly scared. So, no matter what, my story will be continued. Okay? I'm not a big curser, and I don't consider Marco one either, but in this chapter, I think it's necessary. So, yes, there will be some use of the 'f' word. Oooooh! Lol.**

It was amazing how little contact he'd had with other men after the incident. What was even more amazing was how scary it felt just thinking about dating again. He was Dylan's and Dylan's only.

Still, he felt so horrible for running away from the poor boy the way he did. After his last class of the day, he turned to confront him.

He found Stephen, where he knew he would, in the bagel store right on schedule. Again, Marco found himself cursing himself for the obsessive schedule.

"Hi," Marco said meekly, coming up behind Stephen at the table he was seated. Stephen looked up from his book, surprised.

"Marco," he said. "Sit down," he gestured to the chair across from him.

Marco was honestly shaking as he sat down. He put his hands on the table, one over the other, trying to stop the incessant moving.

"Uh…you alright?" Stephen asked, raising an eyebrow. Marco looked up from where his eyes laid on his hands at Stephen.

"Were you asking me out?" he asked bluntly.

Stephen laughed. "Well, I was hoping we'd just be friends since you obviously didn't react to that well."

Marco sighed. "I'm engaged," he said quickly, without a thought.

"Oh," Stephen said, obviously not expecting that as a rejection.

"And he makes me happier than anything," Marco went on.

"I assume," said Stephen, trying to finish the painful conversation, running his fingers along the table subconsciously.

"I love him," said Marco, not quite done trampling Stephen yet.

"I bet," said Stephen.

"I need him to survive," Marco said, not really noticing that this wasn't a great topic for Stephen any longer.

"Therefore, one more day without him will kill me." At Stephen's confused glance, Marco lifted a hand.

"Let's just say, he's going to leave me."

"Well…you could leave him, then," said Stephen, obviously lost. Why would Marco mention being engaged if they were breaking up?

"It's not what you think," said Marco, standing up, not asking, but assuming Stephen was going to follow him out. "Eventually, he will die," Marco spoke hollowly, as though there was no emotion left.

"Oh," Stephen pulled the door open for Marco, not understanding why he wasn't more upset about his lover's death. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

Marco sighed. "I didn't mean soon. He may die soon," Stephen really felt that Marco was speaking in too many riddles…or a different language, which, he wouldn't put past him.

"Or he may die sixty years from now," Marco went on, falling into a decent speed where he was pretty much close with his companion. "The point is, we'll all die eventually, right?"

Stephen paused, unsure if he was supposed to answer. He looked straight ahead, at the cars driving by, at the houses on his other side, at the stoplights, anywhere but at Marco. "I suppose," he said softly.

Marco nodded, surprised to find he'd already made it to his apartment building. "Want to come in?" he asked, expressionless.

Stephen shrugged. "Sure, thanks." He'd never been in Marco's apartment before. They'd hung out at his, strictly business and friendship, and outside places, but never Marco's. He had issues with letting people in to see his (and Dylan's) private domain.

Together, they walked up the stairs, and Marco closed his door behind them. "Oookay, this is it. Fantastic, right?" Still emotionless, (which was starting to slightly worry Stephen) Marco took his shoes and coat off, falling extravagantly onto the couch.

Stephen's eyes first caught the pictures on the mantle; almost all were of Marco and…he assumed his fiancé. Another picture was of Marco and a redhead.

"Dylan," Marco spoke, "is the boy in all of the pictures." Stephen nodded. "I am going to marry him," he said, still without any tone of sadness or particular happiness.

Stephen liked Marco, but this boy…wasn't acting very much like the Marco he knew.

"Want to do me a favor?" asked Marco.

"What's that?" asked Stephen, only mildly curious.

"Break them."

"_What?"_ Stephen asked, completely shocked. "Break what?"

"Everything," he answered, not really seeing what the problem in his request was. "The pictures, the vase, the clock--"

"Are you insane, Marco?!" Stephen yelled, turning around. He was no longer interested in looking at the shelf. He realized there was something definitely wrong with Marco, and yelling wouldn't make it better. He took a breath, changing his approach. "Marco, why do you want me to do that?"

"Because I don't want to do it myself," he answered, as though it should have been obvious. Marco figured his answer was fair enough.

"Marco," Stephen said, as though he were talking to a small child, "I'm not going to break your things; it's wrong."

"So?" Marco questioned. "A lot of things are 'wrong', but they still happen," he crossed his arms stubbornly.

"Marco," Stephen whispered, sitting down on the couch next to him, "do you want to tell me about your boyfriend?"

"What are you, a therapist?" Marco asked, becoming defensive, "I told Ellie I didn't need one. I want to be a social worker. That would look quite odd if I was, on the side, seeing a therapist."

"I'm not a therapist, and it wouldn't look odd if you saw one, Marco. Many people need…some help, or just to talk," said Stephen. "I'm here."

Stephen went to touch Marco's arm, not so shocked when Marco pulled back as though someone had scalded him. His hand lay steady in the air for a moment, thinking about trying again, but then decided to drop it back by his side.

"Kiss me," Marco said suddenly. It wasn't a request, but a solid demand, not one meant to be taken lightly. When Marco was serious about something, he was serious, and no one was allowed to argue.

However, Stephen was never one to follow the rules completely. "Kiss you?" he asked. "Why? When I ask you out, you run away," he said, trying to make sense of the situation, "now you all but force me to kiss you, break your things…what's **wrong** with you?"

"I want you to kiss me…" he waited patiently for something to happen; "now!" he added.

"Tell me what happened to Dylan," Stephen said, moving away from Marco slowly. Marco wasn't himself, so Stephen refused to yell at him.

"He sleeps…all day, all night. I don't think…" Marco put his head in his hands, starting to cry, "he cares about me anymore. He'd have woken up by now."

Trying to ignore any sexual feelings that might have come to mind, he pulled Marco against him. Marco had masked all his pain for so long, he had almost believed it wasn't there. Now, he was confused, scared, hurt, and…not right in the head, if Stephen said so himself. Marco cried into his chest, grabbing tightly onto the fabrics of his shirt. He'd tried to ignore it for so long, the thought that there was a chance Dylan couldn't make it, but now, with Paige's hopes to take him off Life Support, it was so real to him.

Marco felt like his mind had fled, and he was as clueless and innocent as Julia. He had never been so scared and vulnerable in his life. He wanted to die. They weren't pleasant feelings at all.

"Why won't you just kiss me?" Marco asked, still buried in the comforts of Stephen's sweatshirt. He sounded like such a child, and he hated himself for it.

"You're confused," Stephen responded, rubbing his back. "I'm not going to take advantage of you, Marco. That's not what you need," he spoke calmly. Marco was far from calm. He'd started his break down, and nothing was going to stop him from finishing it.

"I need someone to love me!" Marco pulled himself out of Stephen's grasp, deciding to stand up in front of him, feeling the need to look down at someone, rather than up.

"Don't tell me," he said, trying not to hyperventilate, "what I NEED! That's not your decision."

"I'm not going to say anything more," said Stephen, "until I know what happened to your boyfriend. Is he dead?" he asked calmly, as though he were asking if he knew the time.

"As good as dead," Marco said, angry. At the beginning of the day, he'd had no emotions. Now, he felt like Craig; his emotions were running absolutely wild, from one to another. At that moment, he was angry, and needed Stephen to know it.

"I see," said Stephen. "How so?"

"He's in a coma…and every other fucking person in the fucking world doesn't think he fucking stands a chance, so why the fuck should I?!" Marco screamed, taking out his frustrations on the world around him.

"Marco, sit down…please?" Stephen suggested, pointing to the spot next to him on the couch.

"I don't want to sit down! I want to scream!" Marco explained.

"Okay," Stephen threw his hands in the air, looking around the room, avoiding Marco's eyes. "Scream."

Once given permission, the thought didn't seem as enjoyable anymore. Destruction was the answer. He did what Stephen had apparently not wanted to do, and set out to destroy every picture he had.

First went the picture of Marco and Dylan. It was thrown, crushed, and broken to pieces. Second, was the picture of the same two boys at Dylan's high school graduation. The third picture thrown unceremoniously, into the wall this time, was of Marco and Dylan in one of those heart-melting kisses that no other relationship could hope to measure up to. (Caught on camera by none other than Paige.) And the last thrown was the picture of Marco and Ellie with their arms around each other on the day of their own graduation.

Marco was smiling in every picture. He'd smiled since the day of Dylan's "purpose", as he'd started calling it, but never the true smile: the happy smile, the smile that truly meant…everything sucks, but as long as these people are here, it's all okay. It made him so angry because Ellie was away for school, (1) Dylan was…doesn't need to be said, and the Marco in the pictures wasn't a real person anymore.

He hated that Marco. He was so jealous of that Marco. Most of all, he wished he could admit that.

"Are you quite finished destroying your possessions?" asked Stephen, trying not to appear as concerned as he was.

"I'm angry."

"At who?"

"Dylan," Marco answered, breathing heavily, feeling the tears again as he looked at the damage he'd done.

"Why?" Stephen asked.

"He deserted me."

**A/N: (1) Obviously, I realize that's not what's happening. Ellie lives with him, but based on what I wrote in I See You, that's where I wanted Ellie in this story. She'll make an appearance, though. I hope you liked it…overall…? Marco's gone a bit crazy, yes. Everything's kind of gotten to him. Please review! Again, I beg, if anyone sees the episode before Friday, tell me what happens! I don't care how!**


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Still waiting desperately to see "If You Leave" It's not fair that Marco and Dylan aren't even in the preview. Grr. Please read and review.

…_Each affects the other and the other affects the next, and the world is full of stories, but the stories are all one. _

_--The Five People You Meet in Heaven_

"Marco," said Stephen, raising his hand to brush the hair out of Marco's face. "I'm sure it wasn't his fault. He didn't _want_ to dessert you."

Marco hadn't stopped crying since the first tear fell, but it seemed that with each word, the crying became worse. "I'm still angry."

"Why?" Stephen asked, trying to show Marco that his anger at Dylan wasn't needed in the situation. Stephen knew nothing about the situation, but he assumed Dylan hadn't put himself in the coma.

Marco shrugged. "Guilt," he answered.

"Oh?" said Stephen. "You feel guilty? That makes you angry at him?"

"I'm sorta just," he sniffled, wiping more tears off his cheeks, "throwing my emotions out there; they don't connect with each other."

"Okay," said Stephen, nodding that he understood. "So, you feel guilty," he repeated.

Marco nodded. "I wasn't there."

The ghost of a smile graced Stephen's features, the first in the whole conversation. "It's not your fault."

Marco shrugged again, falling silent, but Stephen was glad he'd said anything at all. There wasn't much else to say. Stephen didn't even know Dylan, so felt that any words of comfort would have been hardly any help. He simply comforted Marco by holding him close, giving him the touch Marco had been denied for too long.

"Have you talked about it since?" Stephen asked, trying to help as much as possible.

Marco shook his head. Stephen couldn't see it, but he felt it. "That's not good."

"How am I supposed to talk about it?" Marco asked, defensive again, pulling out of Stephen's grasp. Stephen quickly pulled him back.

"First of all, if you need comfort, take it. Don't move away from me, Marco. I'm trying to help you. Second of all," he waited for Marco to cautiously move back into his arms, "tell me what happened…maybe you'll feel better."

"It won't work," Marco said, without a second thought.

"Try," Stephen pressed.

Marco sighed, figuring he had already destroyed his pictures, cried his heart out, and acted like a lunatic. What more could he lose?

"I'd never been so scared in my life when they explained what happened to me. They told me, 'your boyfriend was in a terrible accident…' and I didn't care to hear the rest, but no, they went on," Marco grabbed a pillow, and was currently trying to make the defenseless pillow feel his pain by punching it into oblivion. "He has extreme internal bleeding." **Punch **"I didn't want to know." **Punch **"He's in critical condition." **Punch.** "I didn't want to know." **Punch.** "His brain activity is slow decreasing." **Punch.** "Didn't want to know." **Punch.** "He's lost a lot of blood." **Punch.** "I definitely didn't want to know."

Marco had resorted to using the scissors in the bottom drawer next to the couch to cut slits into the poor pillow. "Mr. Del Rossi, we want you to be aware before you go in there," **Snip**, "that there's a good chance," **Snip** "he won't wake up." The pillow was now left in pieces in Marco's lap.

"That," said Marco, "I didn't want to hear. The doctor could have punched me into a coma, and that would have been better. In fact, he could have killed me, and it would have pleased me. Then, when they took Dylan off the machines, we could be together. But, no…they didn't hit me…they simple took me into a hospital room where I was met with my boyfriend…pale as a ghost, looking almost dead. At that moment, I wished he had died." He took a deep breath. "That part, I've never told anyone."

"Did it help?" Stephen asked, overwhelmed by his tale.

Marco shook his head. "I feel worse than before! I wished he died. I'm a horrible person, Stephen."

"No," Stephen said quickly, taking Marco's hands in his own. "You are not."

"And now, the thought of taking him off the machines seems terrible. Yet, at the beginning, I wanted him off."

"Maybe," said Stephen, taking a moment to ponder it, "that's why you don't want him off. You feel horrible because you wanted it to be over at the beginning, so it's your way of repenting…begging him to hold on."

"No," Marco shook his head. "No, I just want him back."

"Okay," Stephen tried a different approach. "You've gotten used to him being on the machines. Your faith has risen since the beginning shock of it, so you want to hold on to something."

"Stephen, stop trying to reason with it!" Marco yelled, pulling his hands back. "I don't want a reason; I want **_him._**"

Stephen decided to stop talking. Marco didn't want to hear it anymore, and all he did seem to want to do was break out in constant anger and pace the floor. Marco's faith had risen and fallen in the past year and a half, and he was giving up. It was time, Marco decided.

Dylan would live or die, but there would be no more machines. Paige was right. They would take him off the machines. If he awoke, he was meant to be with Marco. If he didn't, Marco's life had to change forever, but everything happens for a reason, right?

…………………………………………………………………………..

"You want me to sign the papers?" Paige asked, astonished.

Marco nodded. "You were going to do it anyway," he explained.

"I suppose…" she murmured, following Marco into the door of the hospital. "If we go there, and do this now, there's no turning back, Marco. You understand that?"

Once again, he nodded. "Where's Julia?" he asked, trying to avoid the subject.

"At her father's," she waved her hand, showing she knew what he was doing. "Stephen helped you decide this is what you wanted?" she tilted her head to the side, trying to get the facts.

"No, I decided. He just happened to be there."

Paige walked slowly up to the Elizabeth's desk, trying to smile at the pleasant woman. Marco, too, tried to smile right behind her. They both failed.

"Miss. Michalchuk," she said sweetly, "or I've heard, through the grapevine, it may soon be Stevenson, hmm?" she giggled lightly.

"It may be," Paige replied, uncomfortable. She knew how much the marriage talk upset her friend.

"So, a visit?" she asked, reverting to the more acceptable topic.

"Well, not exactly. I—I just…I want…" Paige wasn't able to get the words out so easily.

Elizabeth frowned. She seemed to know what Paige meant. "The dotted line is just waiting for your signature, honey."

"Yes, thank you," she breathed, glad not to have to voice it.

Elizabeth fished through the drawers, looked through some files, both computer files and folders, finally finding the right one.

"Here," said Elizabeth, "here, here…we already went over this, didn't we?" she asked.

"Yes," said Paige. "Can I have the pen?" she asked calmly.

Elizabeth handed over the pen, grateful to be ending this misery of the Michalchuk family. She felt it was time to get it over with.

Paige sighed, holding the pen tightly in her left hand, ready to write. (A/N: I don't know. She strikes me as a lefty. Lol) "Okay," she whispered to herself, preparing for the ink to hit the paper. "Come on, Paige."

Her hand shook as it neared the paper. "Stop it!" she screamed hysterically at her hand. To a bystander who could have been watching Paige and Marco, the two seemed completely insane. Marco begged to have his prized possessions broken, while Paige screamed at her own hand.

However, the shaking did seem involuntary. "I just…I want to sign the damn papers! I do! For Christ's sake…"

"Maybe," said Marco, touching her shoulder lightly, "you need a moment."

"If Dylan dies," Paige said suddenly, appearing Nonchalant about what she was implying, "will you be with Stephen?"

"No," he answered honestly. "I'll move on with my life, but not with my love life. Many times I came in here and promised him he was my only one. I can't lie to him, Paige."

"Good," she answered. "Stephen is so not your type," she flipped her hair over her shoulder, going back to the problem at hand, but the problem _was_ her hand…literally.

The shaking had stopped, but now she'd taken to staring simply at what was in front of her, refusing to do it.

"Maybe Marco's right, honey," said Elizabeth, though she fully supported the idea of the signing. "You're just not ready to let go. Maybe--"

"I'm ready!" she screamed, sick of the emotional crap. She turned around, looking at all the nervous people in the waiting room. Just seeing their faces made her sick. She decided that after Dylan got out of the hospital, (whether by death or by release) she was never going to set foot in there again. That was a promise.

She turned back to Elizabeth, laughing nervously at the commotion she'd caused. She put her pen to the paper in the act of destroying. With this little pen, (who, by the way, had done nothing wrong purposely. It was simply a pen) she could destroy herself, her father, (though he'd given her permission to do it) her friends, (mainly Marco) and most obviously, her brother.

It's funny how one never thinks of a pen as a weapon until put in a situation like this. It was the first time since making her decision days before that she felt like a murderer. She didn't even know how to work a gun, or wasn't capable of holding a knife, but all she had to do was sign, and they did the dirty work for her. All they had to do was pull the plug. It was a big decision to make as quickly as she was planning on making it.

"Elizabeth," she barely whispered, "I need to see him one more time."

"Paige, honey…if he is to…pass on," she said slowly, "he won't right away. You may gave time--"

"Please!" she did not want to scream anymore that day. "Let me see my brother one more time. If he wakes up, I won't be here. I'm never coming back to the hospital after my pen touches this paper. One more time," she said softly, before turning down the hallway to do just that.

Marco stood awkwardly with Elizabeth, waiting for Paige's return. He was angry with her for making him wait. The longer he waited, the more second thoughts he had. He seemed to be angry with a lot of people lately. Surprisingly, Paige didn't take all that long. Apparently, she'd had no speech or anything. It was short, sweet, and to the point.

She walked back up to the desk, picked up the pen, and signed her name to every spot it was needed.

"Stay with him as long as you need," she said to Marco. "If he comes out of it, call me. If he doesn't, call me," she spoke calmly; obviously she was glad it was over. "Like I said, I'm not staying here a minute longer."

"Wait," Marco grabbed her wrist as she turned around, "stay for five minutes after they…do it, please?" he didn't want to have to beg.

She sighed, looking again at the jittery people in the waiting room. "Five minutes," she stressed. He nodded.

Four doctors, and the main one (Doctor Jennifer) working on Dylan's case came into the room. Many looked satisfied that it was finally being done. Paige thought she was fine, but when it was pulled, she ran from the room.

A/N: A day later, aren't you proud of me? Lol. I hope you liked it. Please review!


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Tomorrow's the episode, people! (Assuming I finish this today, which I might not.) I keep praying for them. Anyways, here's the chapter.

"_I want you to want to do the dishes…"_

"So, that's why we're fighting? Because I don't have an extreme desire to wash dishes?" – The Break-up.

……………………………………………………………………………………

"Paige!" Marco cried, running out into the hallway, seeing her propped up against the wall by her elbow, tears running down her face.

She saw him, and threw her arms around his neck. Marco was caught off guard, but held her close. "Shh, Paige…it's okay," he comforted, though he was terrified himself.

She didn't hear, or simply didn't care what he had to say. She wanted to cry, and she was going to. "What have I done, Marco?" she asked.

Marco didn't answer. They both knew what she had done and why she did it, but Marco wasn't sure exactly what would become of it. The unknown was what upset him the most.

"Do you want to go in, stay here, or go home?" he asked, rubbing her back, hoping to control her shaking.

She pulled away, wiping the tears away furiously. "Wow," she whispered. Marco raised his eyebrow. "I want to go home," she said.

Marco nodded, understanding. "Okay, I'll get home when I need to; don't worry, but if you need me…you know where to find me."

"Why? When are you coming home?" she asked, confused. "You can't stay at the hospital forever."

"I'll leave when it's over," he answered. She knew him well enough not to argue. She nodded her head, ignoring the sympathetic looks she was given, and walked out the doors.

Marco walked back into Dylan's room. He was forced to sit with Nurse Diana for a few minutes until she decided it was okay to leave. She put her hand on his shoulder as a gesture of comfort before leaving. Marco didn't even look up. He was glad to finally be alone with him.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to look at Dylan because he hadn't since before they got rid of the machines. He figured Dylan would look pretty much the same without it, but he couldn't force himself to even glance. It would make it so much more real. There was no turning back.

"_You know your father will, like, never forgive you if you marry me," said Dylan._

_Marco rolled his eyes, kissing his boyfriend. "I don't care. As long as I have you, I'll be okay."_

He decided he could take the chance, and he looked at him. He took a deep breath, rose from the chair, and kneeled on the tile floor, so close.

"I love you," Marco whispered, once again unable to speak any louder. "Why—why don't you come back? This is your last chance, Dylan. Come on," he pleaded.

"Damnit, don't make me CRY, Dylan. I do not want to cry…" he rested his head lightly on Dylan's chest, careful not to put any pressure. "I know that you don't like getting up in the morning because you're tired. I'm usually quite sympathetic, but…" he held his breath, holding back the tears that he knew were pretty much inevitable, "this is ridiculous. You've had enough time! Wake the hell up!"

He was screaming hysterically now. He didn't even turn around when the door opened. He knew it was Mike with Julia. He could see them through his peripheral, so he really didn't care to talk to them or explain himself. If they didn't like his yelling, they could deal with it. However, Julia didn't seem to mind at all. She kneeled right next to him.

Marco knew he should have been mature in front of Julia. He knew that he should have stopped yelling out ridiculous things, but it was a lot easier said than done.

"Come ON," he screamed. "Why are you doing this to me? All I ever do is come in here and tell you how much I love you, but do you want to know the truth? I HATE you for doing this! I hate you for this continued sleep when you know…" he paused, angrier now that the tears were falling, "you know that I want you here with me."

Marco lost all self-control, uncaring of what he said or did while his (sort of) niece was in the room. "What did I ever do wrong?!" he yelled, knowing he sounded like a child, but he felt the situation warranted for it.

"Nuddin, siwwy," said Julia. Even she couldn't make him smile anymore.

His body was getting increasingly weaker, and he honestly felt like throwing himself into a wall. He looked at Julia's absolutely painfully content face. She was sad, but not quite enough.

He wanted her to understand. As horrible as it sounded, he wanted her to just stop being so damn happy.

"And why," he asked, "is that silly?"

"Unca Dilly wu…wu…loves you," she pushed out the 'l' confidently. "Don't be siwwy."

Marco sighed. "You don't know how hard is it," he whispered to her. He turned around the see Mike leaning awkwardly against the wall. "Why did you two actually come?" he asked.

"She begged. She said she'd simply die if I didn't take her over here," Mike said truthfully. "I'm noticing more and more each day how much she is like him, Marco. It's like…she's a bit like Paige…maybe a smidge like me and, isn't it funny how the one she's most like has barely met her?" he said. "Well, not exactly funny, but--"

"I know what you mean," Marco interrupted.

"Hello," said Julia, annoyed that they were talking about her, "I'm wight here!"

Mike laughed, scooping her up into his arms. "Sweetie, you saw Dylan. I'm sorry, but we should let Marco be alone with him."

"It's alright," Marco said wearily. "If she wants to stay and all."

Julia giggled, "Can I scream too, Marco?" she asked.

He had to think for a moment, trying to understand what she was talking about. "Oh!" he said. "If you…feel the need," he replied.

"Come on, Unca Dilly!" she tried to have the same force that Marco had naturally. "Come ON!" she screamed, but to no avail. Marco frowned up at her as she held on tightly to her father's neck.

She crossed her arms. "Well," she said, "he won't listen to no weason!" Marco tried not to laugh, knowing she was being entirely serious with her anger, as he had been.

"Come on, daddy. Take me home!"

"Bye, sweetie," said Marco, ashamed that he had wished her to be sad. What kind of an uncle was he being? She'd forgive him.

Mike and Julia had been gone almost an hour. Marco felt pathetic. He was kneeling on the ground before a man who probably didn't even realize he was there, and if he did, he didn't care enough to wake up. (Marco was still spiteful toward him) He'd tried everything. What good was it going to do…honestly?

He was about ready to fall asleep. He was drifting in and out of being awake on Dylan's chest. No, he chastised himself. There was no point in being with him if he was going to fall asleep.

Marco was facing facts. There was nothing else he could do to bring Dylan back. He knew he was going to die. He could feel it throughout his whole heart; there was no faith left. However, he wasn't going to let him die alone. Why couldn't Marco just stay awake?! He could almost hear Dylan speaking to him. Great. If he was dreaming, he must have fallen asleep completely on him.

Though, Marco had enough energy to lift his head. How long had he been asleep? He sighed. "Just wake _up_, Dylan," he said, hoping to fall back to sleep himself. If he could wake up, so could Dylan.

"Five more minutes," it was said so weakly, Marco thought he'd imagined it. He wasn't dreaming. Dylan was barely…there, but he spoke, and that was all that mattered.

A/N: Review, please! Were you surprised? And, sorry it's kind of short. It had to be stopped there, though.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Last Chapter people! Anyway, I want to say that I LOVED what happened in the episode yesterday. It kept to their personalities really well, and of course, the ending scene (the last Darco scene) was the greatest part. So, I'm so glad they didn't breakup.

"My lord," he whispered, shaking his head. "This can't be real," said Marco, completely shocked. He wouldn't let himself believe what seemed to be happening because then, when he awoke, it would be painful. No. There was no way this was real.

Dylan's eyes still remained closed, so he could easily pretend he was gone. "Can you open them?" Marco asked, not stopping to realize that Dylan probably had no idea what he was even talking about.

"Mmm," Dylan groaned, looking as though he was going to fall back to sleep. "Marco?" he whispered, disoriented. He tried to sit back up, but after a minute, he fell right back down on his back with a thud. He winced.

Marco searched for his hand, took it, brought it to his shaking lips, (as every part of him was unable to stop the shivering) and kissed it. "Yeah," he said, still slightly afraid to believe he was having a…well…sort of conversation. "I'm here, Dylan."

Dylan sighed, pulled his arm over his eyes, and muttered, "Tired."

Marco smiled slightly. He could be stuck in a hospital bed sleeping for a year and a half, but he was still Dylan.

"I know you're tired," Marco, not for the first time with Dylan, felt as though he was addressing a six year old who didn't want to get out of bed for school. "Can you please open your eyes for me?"

"I can," said Dylan, "but I'd rather not."

"Okay…" Marco said, unsure of how to respond. Did Dylan even realize what was going on? Was he being stubborn for a reason? Or, was he just in pain? _Was he even in pain?_

Marco leaned down to kiss him on the lips, which, he was glad to see, Dylan responded to. He was getting ready to pull Marco down closer to him when he finally opened his eyes, and pushed Marco gently away.

Marco had waited so long to see those beautiful blue eyes open, but when he saw the look of pure confusion in them, Marco just wanted to tape them shut. "I don't…"

"Dylan," Marco said slowly, hoping Dylan would remain calm, "I have to go tell someone you're awake."

"No!" said Dylan. "Stay with me. I've been asleep?" he asked.

"Yes," Marco started "for quite a while."

"Evan…" it all came back to him at that moment. The hockey stick, the missed game, everything. "What's a while?" he asked.

"I need to go get someone," Marco quickly excused himself. He didn't want to answer that.

"Elizabeth!" Marco called her name, running frantically into the waiting room. "I need…someone, Nurse Diana!" he noticed she was behind the desk with Elizabeth sorting through folders. She looked up, surprised he'd want to see her.

"It's Dylan," he panted, having run down three hallways and a staircase. "He's—he's awake!"

Nurse Diana shared a look with Elizabeth, disinclined to believe him. "Honey, I know that you--"

Marco rolled his eyes. "I don't want a speech on insanity. He is awake!"

She followed him into Dylan's room and, though he'd told her already, she was stunned to see he turned to her when the door closed. "Mr. Michalchuk…I'm so--"

"Please!" he interrupted loudly, causing her to startle. "I need to know just…how—how long have I been asleep?" he asked. "I mean, I know it's going to be weird when you tell me because it doesn't even feel like an hour. A day? A week? Surely," he laughed, "no more than that."

Marco bowed his head, obviously waiting for Nurse Diana to tell him just how long he had been asleep. However, she didn't speak either. Marco sighed.

"One year, six months, and twenty-seven days," he said mechanically, having had to say it to himself every morning just to see how long it had been.

Dylan looked stunned for a moment before laughing automatically, though the humor didn't reach his eyes. "You are joking, right?" he asked, waiting for someone to yell out 'Just kidding!', but it didn't happen.

"Marco," he begged, looking him directly in the eyes, voice still weak from not being used in so long, "tell me you're joking around, please."

Marco stared straight back into those eyes that were honestly trying to burn holes through his own. They were so hopeful that maybe Marco was not serious. For a moment, Marco considered lying. He considered telling him that, indeed, he was kidding. It had only been two days, but he knew that wouldn't work out too well.

He sighed. "I really wish I could, Dylan." It was at that moment that Marco realized why Paige had wanted to take him off the machines early in hopes that he would just quickly pass on. She wanted to avoid this.

Dylan closed his eyes again, pulling the covers over his head. Nurse Diana had left to make a few phone calls. Marco had to make some of his own, but couldn't bring himself to leave.

"Dyl," he said softly, pulling the covers down. He expected Dylan to protest, but he simply rolled over. "Are you angry?" he asked.

Dylan sighed. "Lay down," he whispered, pulling Marco down next to him. "Not angry, no," he answered Marco's question.

"Then, what?" he asked, moving closer so that Dylan's arms were around his back. He'd missed it so much. The feeling.

"Confused. Lost. I don't know," he replied, putting his hand on his forehead. "I don't like this."

Marco nodded. "I understand."

"How?" he asked, realizing he'd spoken too harshly, he lightened his tone. "How could you understand?" he asked again.

"Dylan," Marco sighed, trying to reason with him, "I've felt that way too since you fell into the coma. Along with helpless, scared, depressed, angry…I felt like it was my fault and your fault. I didn't know what to do."

After Marco's statement, the two fell silent. Marco didn't really know what else to say, and Dylan was too overwhelmed to speak.

Marco took out his cell phone from his back pocket, and dialed Paige's number. "Paige, it's Marco."

Dylan's eyes opened wide. He'd forgotten all about his sister! What had been going on with her? How was Mike? Julia? Did Julia remember him?

"Yes, he's awake. I'm completely serious." Marco laughed. "Dyl, she won't believe me until you talk to her."

He eagerly grabbed the phone from Marco's outstretched hand. "Paige! Oh my gosh!" his weak voice was forgotten. "Come here now!"

Marco smiled at Dylan's new state. For a moment, he seemed utterly excited. He touched Dylan's hand, and Dylan entwined them. "I love you," he said to Marco.

Marco closed his eyes again, relishing the moment that Dylan's lips touched his. "I've waited so long just to hear you say that. I've said it every day…and got nothing."

Dylan laughed. "Well, with my limited memories, can't we just pretend I said it yesterday?"

Marco nodded. "We can do that," he answered, kissing him again. "I love you too, by the way," as though Dylan had forgotten.

"How long until I get out?" he asked, eager to get home.

Marco shrugged. "Diana says she's got to take care of some stuff for you, but then you should be free to go. Also, they have to check you out, you know?"

Dylan nodded, not looking forward to that part quite as much.

"Dylan?" Marco and Dylan both turned their heads to the doorway to see Paige, tear-stained face, in the doorway. Marco wasn't sure if the tears were there from earlier, or if she'd cried more after finding out about her brother's awakening.

"Paige," he sat up only slightly, spreading his arms out for her. She ran across the room, practically throwing herself at him, and started crying all over again into his shoulder.

"Shh," said Dylan. "I'd like to say I missed you too, but that would be a lie. I feel like I never left."

"Will you still feel like that," she asked, "after you see Julia?" She pulled away from him, her eyes questioning if he wanted to see his niece yet or not.

"Bring her here," said Dylan. "Please," he added. She nodded.

"Mike," she called, walking out of the doorway just a step or two. "He's ready."

Though Dylan had declared he was ready, nothing could have prepared him for the shock of seeing a walking talking Julia.

"Hi, Unca Dilly," she smiled, never the timid one.

Never in his life had Marco seen Dylan so close to tears. He completely froze, unable to speak a simple word. Finally, his vocal cords seemed to find him. However, he wasn't capable of saying anything more extravagant than:

"Hi."

She was satisfied, though, even with such a short response. Her fairy tale man that she'd heard so much about was real. He could speak. It was a miracle for her. She saw that he was crying (as well as the other three in the room who had just noticed the tears falling down his cheeks) and immediately began to apologize.

"So sorry, Unca Dilly!" she rushed over to wipe his tears off his face. "No sad. No sad!" she demanded.

Dylan smiled in spite of his sadness. "It's okay, Julia. It's not your fault."

"Sure?" she asked, frowning. Julia hated to see people unhappy. He nodded and she squealed excitedly.

"Can I…" Dylan became cautious. "Can I hold you like I used to?" he asked.

Julia nodded, letting him hoist her up onto his lap. "Careful, Jule," said her mother.

"I won't break," Dylan argued, though he admitted he was having a hard time sitting on the end of the bed. Julia hugged him tightly, and he kissed the top of her head, smoothing her hair down.

He held her in front of his face, examining her features carefully, running his fingers over her cheeks. "You're beautiful," he whispered, "not that you weren't always."

She smiled, always the lover of compliments. "Dank you."

He feared he was going to start crying again. "Baby, it's like you grew over night."

"Guess what!" she exclaimed, pointedly ignoring his statement. "Unca Marco told me all stowies of you."

Dylan laughed, looking over at Marco who had long since stood up to give him some room. "Oh, did he? We'll have to see how many of his stories were true."

Marco smiled shyly in his direction, looking back down at the floor. Damn, it had been so long.

"Dylan," said Nurse Diana, coming into the room, "we need to do some tests and such, but in a few days time, you'll be able to leave."

…………………………………………………………………………….

"Be careful," Marco begged, holding Dylan's hands as they climbed the stairs to their apartment. Dylan waved him off.

"Like I told Paige, I'm not going to break, Marco; relax," he replied, rolling his eyes.

"Still…" said Marco, opening the door to the apartment. "I just want you to be safe. Sit," he ordered, pointing to the couch.

"Yes, Sir," Dylan said sarcastically, though quickly sat down after a glare from his boyfriend. He didn't need to start his first day back on thin ice.

Marco rummaged through the things in the cabinet, pulling out a few plates.

"I'm eating?" Dylan asked, confused.

"Mhhm," Marco answered, not quite paying attention, as he was focused more on his cooking. "Oh! Just to let you know, Ellie's coming in today from school, and she doesn't know that you're home yet," he warned before bursting out the word, "home!"

Dylan turned at Marco's sudden outburst with the word." Sorry," he laughed, "I'm just so happy you're really here." He let the kitchen stove wait for a minute by walking over to Dylan to peck him again on the lips. He smiled. "Just had to remind myself." With that, he walked back into the kitchen.

"So, she's coming over to eat?" asked Dylan.

"Yes," Marco mumbled, busy. "Why?"

"Mind if I take a little nap before then? I'm kind of tired."

"No!" Marco yelled. Dylan looked up, holding his hands out in defense. "Sorry," he corrected himself. "Go ahead."

Dylan laughed. "Is that how it's going to be whenever I decide to sleep? Because if it is, we're going to have a little problem here."

Marco shook his head. "Go to sleep, and leave me alone," he said, thinking about how a week ago, he'd never thought he'd say those words.

About a half hour before dinner was ready, Dylan had jumped in the shower, and Marco was getting ready for Ellie's arrival. A knock on the door sounded. She was early.

He walked over to answer it, seeing the beautiful face of his best friend. "Marco!" she screamed, hugging him tightly.

"Hey, El," he said, wondering when he'd be able to breathe again. Eventually, she detached herself (fortunately).

"So, what's been up since the last time I visited…was it a month ago?" she inquired, her curiosity of what life had been like without her was burning.

"Well," Marco heard the sound, or rather, stopped hearing the sound of the shower water running. Dylan was done.

"I've got myself a boyfriend, actually," he smirked.

Ellie was stunned, to say the least. "What?" she asked quietly. "When?" Marco could tell she looked slightly upset. She may have not known Dylan so well, but his coma had affected everyone, even the not-so-close friends.

Marco laughed as he saw Dylan emerge from the hallway, arriving behind her in nothing but a towel. "Ellie," said Dylan, smiling.

She closed her eyes, (they seemed to be doing a lot of that as of late) and turned around slowly, knowing that voice. She opened her eyes and saw him.

"No way," she whispered.

"It's nice to see," said Dylan, walking over to hug her, "that everyone just LOST faith in me."

"I didn't. It's just…wet!" she screamed, "and get dressed!"

Dylan laughed. "Well, excuse me! This is _my _place." He did let go of her; however, and went into the bedroom to get dressed, leaving Marco and Ellie alone.

"Your father called," yelled Marco, assuming Dylan could hear him.

"Yeah?" he yelled back.

"He misses you, of course. While you're in there, call him, okay?" Marco heard no response, but figured Dylan was going to do just that.

Ellie looked at Marco in awe. "I can't believe it," she said softly, her hands on her temples. "It's not something you see happen everyday. It's, like, one of the happy endings in movies."

"No one ever said we're going to have a happy ending," Marco argued, "but at least, hopefully, we'll have a while before either one of us has to end at all."

Ellie smiled. "I hope you're right."

A/N: Okay, like I said, there's another idea I have in mind, but sadly, my uncle just died. It's kind of an awkward thing after writing this story to find out he just died…yesterday, so yes. There's a lot of stress in my family right now, and the idea is still kind of fuzzy in my mind, so I'll be starting it as soon as I get a chance. It's Darco, I'm sure you could have guessed, and it will be called _Closed Eyes. _I'm not sure about this chapter; hopefully you liked it. This was my favorite story overall to write, so thank you to all those who have read and reviewed. Please review for this chapter too! Thank you!


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